


Rantep prompts from tumblr.

by peternurphy



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 11,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9051913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternurphy/pseuds/peternurphy
Summary: Uploading the Rantep prompts from tumblr I posted to here bc why not?Plus, one Pickman + Carter friendship ficlet.





	1. tfln rantep

**Author's Note:**

> These go all the way back to 2014 so some of them aren't as good, but I'm uploading all of them for... the sake of honesty, I suppose :P

"Nyarlathotep and Randolph Carter, (502): I told her I was team Edward. I haven’t gotten laid that easy since I told your sister that I had cancer"

 

“This girl told me she liked books because I told her I was a writer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I asked her what her favorite was and obviously I was hoping she’d say something by Poe or Blackwood but I don’t judge people by book taste unless they say Twilight. Which is exactly what she said.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, I told her I was team Edward. I haven’t gotten laid that easy since I told your sister that I had cancer.”

Nyarlathotep paused. “I have a sister?” The real question he wanted to ask was why Randolph went for the most likely non-human sister when there was a perfectly jealous and desperate shapeshifter who Randolph regularly got drunk with - or as drunk as they could get, with the whole Outer Gods thing.

“Shub-Niggurath man, she has a weird thing for humans, and after I became Outer she didn’t have to worry about cheating.”  
“She has goat legs inside of her genitals, and she’s not my sister.”  
Yog-Sothoth and Shub-Niggurath. Of fucking course. He quickly downed the entire drink he’d ordered - not that it would do anything. Spending time with Randolph was depressing, and he almost felt bad for attempting the eternal torture and et cetera.  
Almost.


	2. impromptu rantep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Impropmtu thing I posted.

Randolph took Nyarlathotep’s hand and walked from the table at a pace that caused him to be pulling the Outer God. He dragged him to the other room of the tiny flat, and stopped there, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look. I know how you have to serve Azathoth for threats of whatever. And I also know some of things you’ve done in the past - some of which you’ve done to me, which are just completely abhorrent.”

 

The only response was a smile and a quirked eyebrow. Randolph pushed a piece of hair out of his face. “We have something now. I have feelings for you and vice versa and I’d like to have this relationship work out, regardless of past interactions. But that won’t stop me from leaving if you go back to pointless harm like you used to - no, I won’t leave you. I’ll do everything in my power to find some way of destroying you.” He made a gesture with the silver key to ‘prove’ his threat, then dropped it.

 

The room was nearly silent, except for the sounds of Richard sculpting in the next room and cars passing by outside. Finally, Nyarlathotep shrugged in acquiescence, and opened his mouth to speak.

 

“Actually, that’s kind of hot.”


	3. ''are you flirting with me?'' rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Are you flirting with me?"

His words were less precise than their first meeting. That was the first thing Randolph notice. While this pitch still sounded like it had been rehearsed, his presence was more informal. He’d come alone. He kept shifting positions and where his eyes were, looking into Randolph’s, then at Randolph’s hands, then above his head, and everywhere around the room. When they did settle on Randolph’s eyes, his mouth twitched, and he paused.

In one of these pauses, Randolph began to catch on. He held up his hand and opened his mouth, and Nyarlathotep acquiesced. 

“Are you flirting with me?”

He looked away, and Randolph felt his face flush. It felt like three years until he got his answer.

“Yes. I am.”


	4. law school au rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Can I tell you a secret?"  
> law school au, for some reason

“Ackerman’s a hardass, but I’ve never had many problems with him. I thought he liked you.”

In the back of a Dunkin Donuts, two students sat, surrounded by textbooks on Constitutional Law and empty cups. Randolph Carter, the blonde, looked over the the open page of a book with a blank expression. The other, a hipster called Nyarlathotep who was cluching a coffee, narrowed his eyes at him. “I mean, you seem to be understanding this pretty well. Do you get test anxiety or something?”

Randolph paused, then put down his cup. “Can I tell you a secret?” He bit the inside of his lip. Nyarlathotep laughed. 

“Sure, confess.”

“I’m doing perfectly fine in this class. Great, even. I just asked you to tutor me because I was too nervous to ask you on an actual date.”

Nyarlathotep laughed harder, and grinned. “So? Are you going to ask me out or what?”

“I, um,”

“Whenever works. Can I tell you a secret?”

He smirked, and the walls drew in and dark tendrils stretched around the table, blocking it from the rest of the restaurant. He beckoned for Randolph to lean in.


	5. disposing of bodies rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "imagine your otp meeting each other for the first time, at night, in the woods, while both trying to dispose of their freshly killed corpses"

“You.”

His face was framed by the dusk, and his hands were wrapped around the wrists of some person Randolph didn’t recognize. The most unnerving aspect of this was the fact that Nyarlathotep was in the same form, with a completely genuine smile. “You - fuck.”

Randolph himself had a body - it was stored inside a sack, in a few pieces, and even if he had merely pushed him out a window while the man ran at him with a knife, it was still a corpse. 

“It’s a warm night.”

“Yeah, it - what do you want?”

The words from their last meeting echoed in Randolph’s head - “Pray to all space that you may never meet me in my thousand other forms.” Even if this was the same form, in different clothes. His mind raced, trying to predict what would be the best way to stay alive. Small talk didn’t factor into any of his expectations. Neither did the fact that while he’d been thinking and planning, Nyarlathotep had been talking.

“I figured it would be at least two years before you started killing people, Randolph. Mine’s still alive - did he kill a cat or something?”

He didn’t answer. Nyarlathotep dropped the arms of the body, and approached him. He put a finger under his chin, pushing Randolph’s face up until they made eye contact. Randolph still didn’t answer - he narrowed his eyes and bit his lip, and tightened his grip on the sack as a possible weapon.

And then, Nyarlathotep merely shrugged. He took his body back, pulling the arms over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in Ilek-Vad.”


	6. holding hands // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "holding hands"

Even if it was just a Great Old One, Cthulhu was at least a mild threat to humanity. And so Armitage had called up a few old students who might actually give a shit, since he was too old to do it himself. The one who had answered was surprisingly enthusiastic - and so was the friend he’d recruited, who looked vaguely familiar. The other friend had crossed his arms and said that he was only being bribed with coffee and clothes, but maintained that he didn’t give two shits about Cthulhu and was only doing it for the bribe. This one had looked less familiar - and Randolph seemed somewhat angry with him Armitage had loaned them the necessary books and found a ship, and sent them on their way.

The trio reached Cape Horn after about a week, and took a smaller boat to an island near R'lyeh. The strange towers and buildings of the city were visible above the water, and the first one to step from the island to a tower was Richard. Randolph was next, and Nyarlathotep followed, in the body of a man from a bar near Arkham. 

“You’re saying that you couldn’t just take a mask you didn’t use for this, instead of possessing another person out of thousands of beings you already took?”

Randolph muttered this under his breath. He’d been saying similar things to nobody in particular since the possession, giving Nyarlathotep dirty looks and hoping Richard would take Randolph’s side if it turned into an argument. 

And it did.

“How about you actually, you know, talk to me about this instead of yourself?” Nyarlathotep said, just as quietly and sharply, as he passed Randolph on the stairs. He was nearly at a run, taking three steps at a time and driving his feet hard into the triangular slabs of stone. He passed Richard and went out of sight. Then, the footsteps stopped.

Randolph climbed the stairs and found him in a small, eclipse shaped room jutting from the staircase. His hands were wrapped around the railing and Richard was looking at him.

“Your friend’s being weird.”

“Thanks.”

Richard rolled his eyes and Randolph flipped him off as he walked over to Nyarlathotep. “So did that guy do something to you? What about him seemed like he should be a disposable mask?”

“Because he was there. Why are you so touchy about this? It’s not like it’s you, or anyone you know.”

Randolph looked back. Richard looked uncomfortable. “Well, believe it or not, Nyarlathotep, I get just a little bit uncomfortable with the idea of someone’s mind and body being disconnected out of their control. Because it’s happened to me before, and it was fucking horrible. But clearly you don’t have much empathy, for me or him or anyone, and you just don’t fucking care." 

There was a noise from below. The floor and staircase groaned, and a large slab of rock fell from the top of the tower to the ocean below. Randolph didn’t notice it.

"Yeah - you told me about the key, you told me about Zkauba. But this-” Nyarlathotep waved his hands rapidly around his body, “This has no effect on you whatsoever, this is just some random douchebag from Arkham.” He crossed his arms, but his hand kept going up to brush his hair back.

“Does it stop at a random douchebag from Arkham? You’re the crawling chaos.” He put as much acid as he could into the title. “There’s nothing going to stop you from using Richard, or Armitage. There’s nothing going to stop you from using me.”

“That’s bullshit.”

They glared at each other as more rocks from the top of the tower fell, some nearly the size of refrigerators. Finally, Richard spoke. 

“If you’re just gonna stand here and fight, I’m getting this done myself." 

He disappeared up the steps, as Randolph took deep breaths. "Tell me, then, why aren’t you going to possess me?”

It was supposed to defuse the situation, but Nyarlathotep only clenched his fists and took a step forwards. “Fuck you, Randolph! I don’t just grab random people for no reason like you seem to think I do! I mean, the way you act sometimes - I might as well not have any mind or existence other than calamity and not being human, or any concept of context or self-control, because you really think that I’m going to kill or possess or do whatever to you, just because I want to! You’re a cunt, I-”

His rant was cut off by one of the pieces of the tower that landed. Randolph ran over, and kneeled to see below it. There was a mesh of some black substance, formless tentacles woven under the rock to hold it up. But the rock was only about half a foot above the floor, and it was slowly going lower. 

Randolph reached under the rock and grabbed the hand of Nyarlathotep and pulled. Nyarlathotep might’ve moved an inch. He pulled again, staring at the lines of stress on Nyarlathotep’s face.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was being shoved off the platform by a wall of ice. It was familiar - it was too familiar. He swore, and his vision was slowly cut off from the sides, fading into black. Finally, it faded, and the sensations of the wind from the tower and Nyarlathotep’s hand disappeared.


	7. roleswap // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: roleswap

The cult had left behind the set up in a rush when Nyarlathotep had called the security guard over. They’d scattered and the guard went after them. The cults to this god were always passive and soft - similar to the god, even if he was powerful.

It wouldn’t be hard to get something from him.

The only part left of the summoning was the sacrifice. They’d already brought the swan to the altar, and a sharpened dagger lay next to it. He bled the bird into the grooves of the circle and recited the chant he’d written on his arm. 

He smiled as the blood began to rise into the air. It spun and separated into individual droplets, then became a sheet of red - blocking Nyarlathotep’s view of anything outside of the circle. As he stood on his toes to see above the sheet, it rose with him. 

And then it fell with a splash, soaking his shoes and jeans. Someone coughed, and he spun around. 

The god wasn’t the towering eldritch figure Nyarlathotep had expected. While there seemed to be an aura of pale green around him, shifting and showing something beyond perception, he looked almost like an old English teacher Nyarlathotep had had, with blonde hair and glasses that were sliding down his nose.

It fit the name of the god. Randolph Carter - it was too normal for a messenger of the Outer Gods. Nyarlathotep had a theory that he’d taken both the name and body from some human, many years ago. 

“Randolph.”

Nyarlathotep watched him approach the circle - the circle that was meant to protect him. There was no way Randolph could enter the circle, created with the Elder sign and the effort of an entire cult. 

“This isn’t yours, is it?”

The words caught him off guard. Randolph rested his hands on the air around the circle, and Nyarlathotep clenched his fists, putting in a concerted effort not to step backwards. “No, it’s not. The sacrifice and the invocation were.”

“Then I have no reason to help you.” He pushed against an invisible wall with his fingertips, and narrowed his eyes. Nyarlathotep made eye contact for a second - then looked away as he felt something in his nose snap and blood leak into his mouth. When he ran his finger over his lip, however, it came with no blood. “I hate cheats.” He jabbed his fingers at the circle again. “I’m not as passive-” His fingertips jabbed again. If the protection weren’t there, they would have gone through Nyarlathotep’s eyes. “-as I’m made out to be.”

At this, Nyarlathotep took a single step back. Something felt wrong - and he looked back and saw the back of his heel over the circumference. Randolph’s hands fell through the circle, but he didn’t approach.

“I’ll - I’ll send you back. I’m sorry - if there’s anything you want, I’ll do it, I’ll-” He tried to move away from Randolph, who hadn’t moved either. Something told him Randolph was choosing not to move. 

Then his nose began to bleed again - but for real this time, and accompanied by his eyes. He stared up at Randolph, who rolled his eyes. “What did you expect?”

But Nyarlathotep was able to stand up, and he did. He turned his back to Randolph - maybe a bad idea, but it made it easier to run towards the window. He balanced the centers of his feet against the windowsill, but was thrown backwards.

Randolph walked towards him. The sea green field spread from his fingers as he wrapped them around Nyarlathotep’s throat. “This, ” He pushed his fingernails into Nyarlathotep, “is satisfying. But I still have more.” Their eyes met a second time.

And then he stopped.

“Never summon me again.”


	8. ''it's not what it looks like'' // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "it's not what it looks like"

Around dawn, Randolph limps into the palace with torn clothes and skin streaked with blood. There’s a more private chamber at the end of this hall, but he’s too exhausted, and so he collapses onto a baroque-style bench against a wall.

He thinks his best bet would be to clean up and get new clothes without alerting anyone. If he doesn’t draw too much attention to himself, then nobody will have to know how he almost got killed by Zoogs. And no specific entities will be even more convinced that Randolph’s human body is completely fragile.

The sun has completely risen by the time Randolph gets the energy to pull himself up and into a bathing chamber. He wipes off his glasses before he begins to peel off his tattered clothes. There are a lot more bruises and injuries than he expected to see - he hadn’t realized he’d got a black eye. The nastiest one is by his shoulder - he moves closer to the mirror to look at it. It’s a large dark red bruise accompanied by a pretty jagged cut, and it probably needs stitches. He begins to wipe the blood off with a towel when he hears footsteps from the hallway.

“Fuck-”

The door opens. Nyarlathotep echoes Randolph’s curse. Randolph stares at the opposite wall, and continues to wipe the blood from his arm. It seems like for every amount he wipes away, twice that amount pours out of the wound. Nyarlathotep inhales a few times, but breaks off before saying anything each time.

“It’s not what it looks like. I’m fine. Most of this blood isn’t even mine.” Randolph knows how obviously bullshit this is. He changes the argument. “Besides, I’ve seen you looking much worse. Why don’t you ever worry about your own fragility?”

“You obey a lot more rules of reality than I do.”

Randolph finally looks back. “It’s just a few cuts. Calm down." 

Nyarlathotep already is completely composed, however. He plucks the remainder of the torn clothes out from the space into some void and produces a bandage. "I really don’t want you to die. I put effort into being careful with you because I feel like it’s worth it, but then you go and pull this shit.”

Randolph snorts. “Your definition of careful is not throwing me into Azathoth. Which I’m very glad you’ve stopped doing, but it might help if you were at least consistent.” He takes the bandage lightly and begins to wrap his ankle. “If it’ll make you feel any better, it was Zoogs who did it. You could go and send them a messag-” Without warning, his ankle is moved in an incredibly painful fashion. Randolph screams.

“It was dislocated, dumbass.” Nyarlathotep fixes the bandages. “I’ll do that.” He looks at Randolph. “I probably could take care of most of the threats here. It would reassure me.”

“So you’re saying that if you’re able to… take care of any living entities that went after me, you’ll back off and calm down. Even if there were an automobile accident, or I can’t identify the attacker, or I have an asthma attack, or-”

“It’s a partial solution.”

Randolph pulls Nyarlathotep closer and kisses him, leaving a bit of blood across his lips. “I think it’ll work.”


	9. librarian and patron // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> au prompt: library patron and librarian

They’d reorganized.

None of the grimoires were available to be taken out of the library, but Randolph was completely willing to return each day to read and try and figure out what was going on. And then, in the middle of what would be a semester for the college, between a Monday and a Tuesday, every shelf in the library had been moved around.

The first fifteen minutes of searching, he’d been mildly confused. Why would they move all the books, and put them in a system that seemed to make no sense? What happened to Dewey Decimal? The next fifteen minutes he began to get annoyed - there was no reason for this. The next fifteen minutes, he wanted to cry. None of this made any sense whatsoever.

“Do you need help?”

“No, no - I have everything handled. Um. Thanks.”

The librarian - tall, slim, high cheekbones, dark eyes - shrugged and moved on. In reality, Randolph just didn’t want to tell him what he was looking for. He didn’t need that kind of judgement in his life. Maybe Armitage would show up, or by some stroke of fate, Pickman (even though he’d been gone for 3 months now). At least he wouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit alone.

Another 30 minutes passed, and the closest thing Randolph had found was a Bible. He stared at the shelves. If he screamed, he’d probably be asked to leave. Instead, he rested his forehead against the shelf. 

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

It was the same librarian. He looked concerned. Randolph took a deep breath, then turned towards him. “Could you tell me where the occult translations have been moved?”

The librarian’s face looked less judgmental and more pensive. At least scaring the cute librarian would be better than invoking disdain. “It’s… could you follow me, actually?” Before Randolph could answer, the librarian turned around and began to walk energetically. Randolph dragged himself after.

It was a short walk - through areas of the library that Randolph hadn’t ever seen. He wasn’t aware of a hall behind the study rooms that let to a stairwell - perhaps the rarity of the books was why they were moved? The walk was surprisingly long, too. He wrote it off as the reorganization.

“It’s… this shelf.” The librarian gestured, and leaned against the shelf.

“Thank you.”

Instead of leaving, the librarian stayed, looking down and over Randolph’s shoulder as he searched for the book. Might as well make small talk, Randolph thought. “Are you a professor here?”

“What? No… I don’t work here.”

Randolph didn’t look up from the books. For some reason, the occult books were kept by various copies of Elizabethan plays, and assorted cookbooks. “Then how do you know where everything is? This organization makes no sense.”

“I did convince them to reorganize. But that was for my own purposes.”

The statement made Randolph look up. The librarian - or not - was still leaning idly against the shelf, but the rest of the library seemed to have dissolved into nothing. He grabbed one of the books off the shelf, held it in front of himself, and stood up, slowly. The man continued on, and tendrils of darkness spread across the shelf. “Kadath, right? That’s what you’re looking for. I’d prefer it if you stopped. Hell - I think we could be friends. Or…” He stepped closer. “Just find something else. I don’t need the elder gods urged on - you understand, right?” The man’s voice was soft and non confrontational. Randolph stood, transfixed, nearly drunk. The tunnel vision was seeping in. “Oh, thank you-”

He collapsed. He’d expected to wake up in the middle of the library, but instead, the librarian was standing over him. “Let me help you up.” Randolph took his hand, and gripped the book in the other. “I can show you something much better. You don’t need Kadath.”

Randolph tried to avoid looking at his face. The book he was holding was The Massacre at Paris. Damn, I rather like Marlowe, he thought. Then he threw it at the “librarian” and ran.


	10. co-stars // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> au prompt: co-stars au

“I think we’re supposed to be on set around…” Nyarlathotep looked at his watch. “Now.”

“It’s not like Pickman is ever on time.”

Randolph moved his legs to the side. The ground was above him and he would never get 100% used to the feeling of whatever it was that was holding him up, and yet, didn’t seem to actually be connected to Nyarlathotep’s physical body. As he moved, the bonds tightened. “But it’s pointless if you just hold me here for an hour and we’re late, anyway.” 

“Stop complaining.”

The dark substance that formed the vine-like thing filled his mouth, stopping just past the back of Randolph’s mouth. He made a sound around it, shifted, let the bonds tighten. A new tendril emerged, wrapped around his waist, started moving downwards - or rather, sideways.

And then the door opened. “Hey, what the hell-”

KNOCK-thump

It was a long ride to the hospital.


	11. things said when you were drunk // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: things you said when you were drunk

There’s blood on the floor. It’s half dried into the wood paneling by now, reddish stains on a tan surface. It bleeds out from the center, raised, drops, following a path towards an old, uncomfortable looking sofa. And a man: thin, pale, lying across the cushions with an empty bottle in the hand which droops off the couch. He stares at the ceiling. Much of the blood seems to have come from his clothes, which are now stained with it in places. A long knife lies on the floor next to him.

“They found out.”

“I guessed so.”

The man on the couch pulls his knees towards him and the other sits down. He puts his hand over Randolph’s knee; Randolph winces. He pulls his hand away. “You know, I thought we’d been careful about this. Kept a cautious distance in the Dreamlands, and watched out for any possible…” Randolph waves his hand in the air. Nyarlathotep sinks as far into the couch as he can - not that far.

“I thought I had this managed.”

“It’s-”

“He came after you before he came for me.”

“Look-”

“I thought this was something I could handle.”

He puts his hand over his face. Randolph pulls himself up with a soft groan. “I don’t blame you for this. You did all you could.” He leans in, and with bloodstained lips that smell like wine, kisses Nyarlathotep on the side of his head. A slight mark is left behind. “If anything, I brought it on myself. Caused all…” He waves his hand over the floor and over himself. “This to happen. Shouldn’t have gone to Yog-Sothoth.”

Without wiping the bloodstain as he might normally have done, Nyarlathotep turns to fix his dark gaze into Randolph’s eyes. “Gone to Yog-Sothoth,” he repeats, softly. “When?”

“And why?” Randolph smiles. “Shit. Nevermind.” He swings his feet over the side of the couch.

“You can’t just say nevermind to this, Randolph, when did you go to Yog-Sothoth?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“That’s not true, and you know it!”

“I shouldn’t have said anything, I-” Randolph stands up, abruptly, and begins to move towards the door. He reaches under his shirt and holds the Silver Key in his hands, as if it will protect him from the conversation. “I’m going to Richard’s, I need to…”

Nyarlathotep grabs him by the upper arm. They face each other. “I just want you to tell me what happened-” Randolph raises the key with his other hand, and clutches it.

“I’m going to Richard’s,” He repeats, softly. Nyarlathotep releases him, and as he leaves, the Crawling Chaos stares into the door, delirious.


	12. things said at 1 am // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: things you said at 1 am

“I’ve had to quell rumors about you being dead.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

 

Randolph jumps and knocks over the cup of coffee next to him, and looks over his shoulder at Nyarlathotep. A few seconds previously, he hadn’t been in the room - or house, or even that part of the universe. “Why do you have to do that?” Nyarlathotep moves a step away, and Randolph continues. “Not that, just… warn me beforehand. Christ.”

Nyarlathotep laughs and pulls another chair towards Randolph. “Where have you been, though? Most of the denizens of Ilek-Vad don’t understand that you can leave the Dreamlands essentially at will.” He leans across the books and papers scattered across the desk. “You didn’t even tell me why you left.”

“I figured it wouldn’t matter too much. I’m returning soon, it’s nothing that important-”

“Then why didn’t you give a warning? Why didn’t you tell everybody that you were fine?”

“They’d want more answers than that. I’d rather not say why I had to come here.”

“Don’t I deserve to know?” Nyarlathotep wraps his hand around the back of Randolph’s neck to pull him closer. “Clearly there’s something wrong - and you never even thought to ask my help? I should be offended at this, honestly.”

“You’re too damn good at this.”

Nyarlathotep smiles. Randolph pulls away, leans back and stares at the ceiling. “I still have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Now?”

“No - in Ilek-Vad. I don’t have any experience in politics - and even though it’s fate that brought me, that doesn’t mean I have any idea how to run a functioning state. I can’t leave everything to a council or to advisors, I…” He picks up one of the journals on economics and slaps it down on the desk. “I don’t know. I just want to have some beneficial effect, but I’m completely lost.”

Nyarlathotep’s chair grinds against the floor as he pulls it closer. “You could’ve asked me to help.”

“You’re already doing a lot for me.”

 

“I’m… “ He trails off. “It’s not too much more than I’d do for anyone else in your position. It’s just diplomacy. For you, as King of Ilek-Vad, I’ve done nothing beyond what I would do for any other king. But I’d be willing to help you with all… this, if you let me. If you didn’t worry about appearances so much.” Randolph opens his mouth to protest this, but Nyarlathotep continues. “Let me be your advisor - your confidant. I can help you, and I want to.” He leans in and strokes Randolph’s hair. “Just tell me what you need.”


	13. things said on top of the world // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: things you said when we were on top of the world

He sits crossed-legged in front of the window, staring out over Boston. The sun is beginning to set and it filters red through the buildings and across the water. The cup of tea in his hands has long grown cold, but he doesn’t notice. People pass under, talking, existing in the waking world as normal. Randolph narrows his eyes at them, looking for anything familiar.

“…pray to all space that you may never meet me in my thousand other forms…”

But Randolph has begun to pray for essentially the opposite of that. Oh, he’s wary enough. He’s done reading, he’s had some rather suspicion inducing conversations with Armitage. Thousand other forms is likely an understatement, he knows. Nyarlathotep will steal form and appearance to adopt new avatars and assimilate other lives into the whole of the Crawling Chaos. And so Randolph tells himself that he’s just being cautious when he searches every new person he meets for any trace of familiar voicing or mannerism.

The perfumes linger in his thoughts and and pleasant tones of his voice swarm back over him. “So. Randolph Carter, in the name of the Other Gods I spare you and charge you to seek that sunset city which is yours, and to send thence the drowsy truant gods for whom the dream world waits.” Of course, it was a lie. Randolph isn’t so far gone as to try and rationalize it otherwise. He was intentionally sent to his doom. It’s an undisputable fact. The words and the voice were sweet, each syllable seeming specifically intoned to draw Randolph in and make him dizzy. Their ghosts echoed in his mind.

The sun now has fallen into the night. Kadath was cold and dark and had a fundamental emptiness to it, but Boston in the night holds something. It’s comforting to know that no amount of longing is going to tear the city from his heart. Perhaps the beauty of Boston - the federal and colonial buildings casting shadows over the gardens and into the harbor; soft, cool, light, glistening around the twisted roads and paths - had been put into Nyarlathotep’s speech and words.

But as Randolph looks over his domain, he still thinks of the god. The god who had taken specific interest in him, even if it was for the sake of malice. He’d been physically approached, and warned of the possibility of a second meeting. And he knows that this second meeting would likely mean his death, or some worse, unknowable fate. But he thinks of it. He dreams of it.

He leans back into the chair and sets the tea aside. His eyes close. The scent of cyprinum is now growing stronger, moving from a vivid memory to what seems like a physical reality. A cool sensation moves up the back of his neck into the base of his hair, and he tilts his head into it with a soft gasp.

And he dreams.


	14. neck kiss // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: neck kiss

Nightgaunts fly over the bright lights and shining buildings of Oonai, and revellers pass over the roads and walkways, laughing and elated and stumbling into each other. A narrow alley stretches perpendicular to one street, between two marble buildings from which music emanate. In the alley the lights reflect and bounce across the shining domes and walls of the building. In the alley they cross each other and break the shadows. The outside of the alley has bright, direct, light, and loud laughing and talking. And in the inside it’s muted, and the only conversation is murmured and moaned against soft skin and down towards the partner.

“Aren’t you-” A gasp, from the pale, almost translucent blonde man pinned against the wall. “-afraid?”

“Of what?” The other - the Crawling Chaos - pushes the collar of sunset robes to pull gently at the skin at the base of the neck. When his teeth are removed, the skin turns pink around the bite marks. “This isn’t exactly-” He kisses the bite mark and moves upwards with his mouth, lightly drawing his tongue upwards. Randolph is on his toes. “A new situation for us.”

Hands tighten around the hands grasping them and pushing them against the wall. “Nightgaunts… we’re- Fuck - we’re near the Underworld. There are Nightgaunts…” Randolph’s back arches against the wall.

“Do you really think-” Nyarlathotep’s hand moves from the left wrist to wrap around the base of Randolph’s throat. “-That I’d let that scare me off?” He bites, harder, under Randolph’s jaw. He sucks, then puts his fingers under Randolph’s chin to look into his eyes. “Besides. You’d be in just as much danger as me if we were found.”


	15. forehead kiss // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: forehead kiss

It’s the middle of the summer in Ilek-Vad. The sun is hot and the air is wet, and the humidity spreads over the city and its citizens like the breath of a great being. The winds blow the scent of impatiens from the shade into the sunny, shining, natural ponds and pools between the paths, outlined by calibrachoas and pansies. The shadows of the king and a favored diplomat pass over the flowers, which turn to try and face the mango-colored sun.

The laughter is conspiratory and muted and the couple has removed itself from the indoor gathering, despite the King of Ilek-Vad himself being among them. The assembly was of small importance, or so he had claimed when asking the lover to accompany him outside into the garden. “They won’t miss us. They have trade to fight over amongst themselves - I’ll return before I’m needed.”

“It’s just too nice to stay indoors.”

“Precisely.”

The smile shared between the two of them is intimate; they’ve nearly grown into the same curve of their mouths, Nyarlathotep’s more balanced and Randolph’s more pronounced. And then Randolph laughs and looks down. “I missed doing things like this. You’ve been away for too long.”

“I have… diplomatic responsibilities.”

“Errands for Azathoth?”

Randolph knows he’d be dead if he were anyone else. Instead, Nyarlathotep grabs him by the waist, and pulls him so his back is to a salvia bush. “You’re too pretty,” He says, softly, and they kiss on the lips, lightly. Randolph’s eyes narrow, and then-

There’s a shout from the palace. Nyarlathotep continues to hold Randolph adjacent to the bush, and leans down to kiss him on the forehead - then, begrudgingly, they return to the gathering.


	16. ilu in a blissful sigh as you fall asleep // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "i love you", in a blissful sigh as you fall asleep

He watches from the top of the steeple across the bay to the palace of Ilek-Vad. To him, there’s less of a distinction - the Earthly city and the Dream city blend together nearly seamlessly, sunset auras reaching into the sky from the gabled roofs and colonial buildings. He turns his head and sees a small figure enter an estate behind a forest - then from the palace, a similar figure, now in shining orange and blue robes, walk across the balconies only minutes later. 

It’s not as if he’d have a chance with the Carter human in either realm. Even as the heat rises in this form, and he moves to settle it, he thinks about it. He could use a new form - one Randolph doesn’t know of, one that he’s not used in ages, or borrow some man from the Dreamlands and be charming and subtle. But the Crawling Chaos doesn’t do “subtle”. Frankly, it’s irritating to deal with humans without being showy and glorious and shining and worshipped. 

Sensation crawls up his body - showy and glorious and shining and worshipped were what he was at the one meeting, which Randolph won’t have forgotten. He’d left himself with nothing left to say. He narrows his eyes, tastes the words - “I love you” - some human phrase with human meaning.

It’s bitter.


	17. rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i don't remember what this prompt was

“If you bring up Yog-Sothoth again, I will scream, Randolph Carter.”

Nyarlathotep has, by this point, gone from towering proudly above Randolph at any possible moment to languidly draping himself across the palace furniture. The robes half cover skin which Randolph has longed to touch since their first encounter. But of course, with the connection that Ilek-Vad and its king have to Yog-Sothoth, that would be entirely inappropriate.

And Nyarlathotep has to know this. When he first arrived, with the pretext of “diplomacy”, he would tease on occasion - heavy glances across a committee meeting or a lingering on an accidental touch. After Randolph’s his disappearance, he thought that Nyarlathotep would draw back. Naturally, Nyarlathotep responded to Randolph’s attempt at aloofness by drawing in closer. More and more time had been spent away from advisors and committees and together. But they never touch more than in brief moments. The conversations are littered with allusions and references. A barrier forms - thin, and they push against the barrier at any possible moment - but it is never broken.

“I’m entirely serious. Even with my… particular history with Yog-Sothoth, it’s a completely different set of interactions. If anything, I’m sure I would be prompting him to increase his protections over your city.”

“Yes, but-”

“I will set myself on fire if you say that one more time.”

“Please don’t, I like that chair.”

Nyarlathotep shrugs - but stays unignited, mostly unmoved from the position he took at the beginning of the evening. Randolph has been pacing the whole time against the opposite end of the room. Bottles of moon wine lie between them; the glass in Randolph’s hand shakes. Nyarlathotep doesn’t bother with a glass. His face is near expressionless - but it’s not a natural expressionless. Randolph isn’t going to kid himself - none of Nyarlathotep’s expressions or responses can be called natural. He knows how much is performance. But it seems like performance on top of the performance.

He sets the glass on a windowsill. It’s been empty for a while now. “I want to be more careful,” Randolph finally says. It’s a decent approximation. “I’m trying to take things into consideration. Even if it’s not you yourself, there’s probably something. I want to do this intelligently-” Nyarlathotep snorts at this. “Excuse me?”

“I liked you better when you were stupid and reckless.”

Randolph sighs deeply. The perfumed air fills him. It’s the air of the palace and city he had so recently been able to return to after all the pain and ennui of his life in the Waking World, and after the struggle between him and Zkauba which so easily could have been eternal. But the hunger is revived. He mutters an earthly curse; Nyarlathotep’s lips twitch. Randolph steps towards him and pulls him by the collar of his robes, pressing the darker lips to his own. They’re soft - Nyarlathotep hums as he sucks lightly on his upper lip before pulling away.

“How’s that for stupid and reckless?”


	18. 2 normal dudes au // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 sentence fic - 2 normal dudes au

They always meet at the same place, generally at the same time: the corner booth at Denny’s at 1:33 am. Their first encounter, Randolph had become separated from his friends when he saw a stray cat, and Nyarlathotep was about to pull a knife on a guy for some perceived slight. Then it happened the next week, and the next - and became a ritual. They sit in the booth and drink coffee and Nyarlathotep rants until Randolph remembers how late it is and realizes how sleepy he is.

He doesn’t think anything of it, until the night Nyarlathotep kisses him before they leave.


	19. psychic au // carren and rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Rantep+Warren, Carter's trying to get in touch with Warren but can't help but pay more attention to the cute psychic"

At the back of the cabinet where Nyarlathotep keeps all the crystals and cards and devices, he has copies of his bills taped under his PhD in theoretical physics. He sings the phrase I hate my fucking life under his breath to the tune of the riff from Take On Me as he grabs the scented candles that give him migraines and sets them on the table between the clients, asking, “You want me to figure out if you two are going to stay together?”, and in his head, I spent all that money at grad school to spend half an hour bullshitting at two guys who have never heard of a fucking therapist?

“That’s pretty much it,” says Buzzcut, “I’m about to marry Naomi, but I’m not really sure if that’s the best idea, considering - well, I just want to know if this is more than just an affair.”

Glasses is leaning against him, with a pained look in his eye - no wonder. But there’s a brief moment of eye contact between him and Nyarlathotep; after asking questions and faking duress and gazing into the smoke for as long as he can, Nyarlathotep slips Glasses a note with his personal number under the table while saying in a monotone -

“It’s just an affair - marry Naomi, he can do better.”


	20. ilu on a sunny afternoon // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you", on a sunny afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair

The clouds filter the sunlight into a rosy haze over the gardens and ponds in the courtyard, a warm and lazy light surrounding them and covering them in their sleepy lounge on a knit blanket. Nyarlathotep’s skin is warm and he’s sprawled out in an impossible form, slowly shifting through hyperspace as he holds his human close to him. He’s radiant and soft - as if there’s a light blur around him and light like sunrise clinging to him. His eyes press closed - the Silver key around his neck reflects the sunlight directly towards his eyes, reflecting through his eyelids but likely causing pain to the fragile human cells. 

He still thinks about the fragility. With a single movement, he could push the human into the void and dissolve him into nothingness, consuming the thoughts and energy that once formed the man known as Randolph Carter. Nyarlathotep’s lips twitch and he tugs lightly at the soft hair near his temples. Oh, it’s tempting. 

And then the human opens his eyes halfway and pulls himself closer to Nyarlathotep with a murmured “I love you”, and Nyarlathotep wraps himself around him, and feels his breath and heartbeat and thoughts, and for once in his life, restrains himself.


	21. ilu in the first time you realized it // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you" in awe, the first time you realized it

There’s red human blood under Randolph’s fingernails and on his fingertips, yet Nyarlathotep’s back bears none of the marks created not even five minutes previously. “You really don’t try to hide the fact that you’re wearing a mask, do you?” 

“I can’t be wearing the mask if I am the mask, can I?” 

Randolph shrugs and examines the blood. It’s beginning to dry and stick to his fingers. “So there’s nothing beneath it, then?”

“Beneath what?”

He’s moving quickly across the room - dancing, nearly, picking up his clothes from the floor and straightening them out before he puts them on. Every move seems deliberately chosen. Every move is deliberately chosen, Randolph thinks. Some hyperspace pseudo-neural circuitry moving in impossible ways, creating an image in the three dimensional like a projection on a wall. Predetermined. Any interaction would be an illusion. But the blood stays sticky and ugly and difficult to scratch off of his fingers. 

Nyarlathotep is dressed. Of course he is - he has places to go, people to see. So does Randolph. He sits up in the bed and stretches; his joints crack and pop loudly and his muscles complain. His face is rough and unshaven. He’s been aware of this contrast since they began this series of affairs. 

And as he rolls off the bed to get his own clothes and passes Nyarlathotep lingering to admire himself in the mirror, he wonders if that’s the point. Randolph has decided it’s futile to try and analyze his… lover? Paramour? But at the same time, as he watches Nyarlathotep fixing his hair out the corner of his vision, he thinks about the earlier statement. Nothing beneath the mask. A void, disguised in soft curves and delicious motions and pretty colors, drawing Randolph in to try and fill itself. Randolph leans back against the wall and stares at the ceiling and figures that he’s wrong. But it still feels good to think about. “You know-”

“Mm?”

“…I love you.”


	22. seeking shelter // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: seeking shelter

A heavy storm is passing over Ilek-Vad. 

The first edge of the storm hits the city just minutes after the final storm wall was prepared, and even in the more fortified palace Randolph Carter can feel the barrage of wind and rain. He stands in the center of his chambers, the windows shuttered and the stone walls blocking out a miniscule amount of the noise of the storm. Years ago, he would have been crouched in the cellars in terror, flinging away rats and struggling to stay afloat in his memories.

And he’s still shaking and pacing. It’s been enough years and enough cosmic experience to spread thin those few horrific years. He can now tell himself that the sounds of the storm are just the storm and believe it. The scar tissue over the old wounds will always stand out to him, but the wounds are closing. 

The bottles of moon wine on the side table helps, too. Over the past couple hours he’s grown from a state of panic to a state of considerably less panic. Randolph can see himself being able to fall asleep without opening the second, however - and that’s progress. He pours the fourth glass.

And then the howling of the wind increases tenfold and the glass and shutters shatter inward and a dark, soaking, humanoid figure is flung against the far wall and crumples to the ground. 

It’s a few seconds before Randolph is conscious again. The shutters are haphazardly repared and he’s thrown over the side of the bed, away from the water and broken glass. He sits up, lets his eyes adjust - 

“Nodens.”

“Of course. I couldn’t think of any other reason in the universe for you to be here.” Randolph is deadpan at the sight of Nyarlathotep. It’s possible the anxiety from the storm had taken any shock at his appearance out. It’s possible that he’s still recovering from fainting. Worst of all, it’s possible that he’s grown used to Nyarlathotep’s presence. 

“The bed of my affair is a good enough place to seek shelter.”

“Your affair?”

Nyarlathotep’s lips curve upwards while his eyes narrow. Randolph still wouldn’t describe this as a smile, despite the perfect assumption of the forms a human face would take. “What are you implying with your tone, Randolph Carter?”

Every time he does this, he knows he shouldn’t - yet he pulls Nyarlathotep closer to him and wraps his arms around his waist. “I’m implying that you’re already far too false and mercurial to have an affair. The word implies some stable basis that’s being betrayed, but betrayal is your nature. I can’t even fault you for it.”

“So you’ve figured me out?”

“No, I suppose you’ll say my tiny human brain can’t possibly perceive how you exist. But you can’t say I’m wrong, either.”

Nyarlathotep laughs - it sounds like the clatter of counterfeit coins. He pulls at the collar of Randolph’s robes, and Randolph feels a flush rise from where the fingers just barely brush his skin. “You know, I’m married. As for you…”

Randolph doesn’t respond. It takes him a second to search within himself how exactly he feels about Nyarlathotep being married - probably to some shining god or goddess, glorious and proud and carrying some weight within the vast universe. And then he thinks about Nyarlathotep straying from that figure for some human, and feels his skin through the robes -

“You’re shivering.”

Immediately it stops and Nyarlathotep draws his face back to neutral. “Masks,” He says. The feeling of heat radiating off his body begins to fade into the vague electric field he always seems to give off - and yet, the body relaxes against Randolph. “It was a hard flight here.” The performance of breathing resumes, slow and regular. He pulls Randolph closer to him and kisses him with wet lips, and says against his skin - “And I would prefer it not to have been for nothing.”


	23. love bites // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: love bites

It’s become a habit of Randolph’s to look down over the side of his abdomen every morning in the shower. Across the front and right side there are always small marks - bite marks with soft purple and red mottling between them over areas that correspond to organs. The positioning changes perhaps by a few centimeters every morning, new bites over old ones. 

Where they come from isn’t a mystery, though. He falls asleep every night curled into an awake and vigilant Nyarlathotep, and by the time he wakes up Nyarlathotep has left. Clearly it’s him. It doesn’t seem something harmful - he hasn’t felt any adverse effects from it. And as apprehensive as he is, Nyarlathotep would have to be beyond surreptitiously trying to hurt Randolph by now. There have been far too many times where Randolph was easily vulnerable and Nyarlathotep made no attempt on him. If it’s not benign, it’s far too late anyway. 

One morning he resolves to ask him. Nyarlathotep has cult business to manage that day; that’s not a problem, it gives Randolph time to prepare himself. To rehearse to his cats and find that correct order of words that doesn’t entirely make him feel like a stupid human asking a stupid question of a literal, unknowable, god. 

When Nyarlathotep materializes next to him at his desk, the feelings of foolishness return. The words he’d agonized upon for hours get shot into the ether and as he pulls away from the kiss he starts with “You’ve left hickies.”  
At least it’s accurate.

Nyarlathotep’s lips twitch; he pushes a hand through Randolph’s hair. “What about them?” The hair’s ruffled out of place and falls into his eyes now. By now, Randolph’s pretty much used to being played with like this.

“Why…” He holds his hand up so he can finish his question without being interrupted. “Why on my stomach?”

Nyarlathotep bends closer to him, moving his hands towards Randolph’s waist. Automatically, he sucks in his breath as Nyarlathotep squeezes. “Soft human,” He murmurs. He’s radiating warmth and Randolph drinks it in, intoxicating - then remembers what he wanted to know.

“You’ve been latching onto my stomach while I sleep-”

“It’s not hurting you, is it?”

“No, it’s not - I just want to know why,” says Randolph. He keeps his voice patient - it can be an ordeal to get the simplest of answers from Nyarlathotep for him. His hands wrap around Nyarlathotep’s and he uses him as a pivot to move the desk chair and face him. “Nyarlathotep, please…”

The vague smile thins and the dark eyes flick across Randolph. Randolph keeps his expression open and his grip on Nyarlathotep’s hands soft. He squeezes gently, and finally Nyarlathotep speaks. “I suppose the best way to say this which you would understand…” His brows furrow, somewhat exaggeratedly. “It makes me feel closer to you. You have your actions which affect you, somehow, I have mine, which then have to be filtered and interpreted through the mask. But if it distresses you, it’s not a necessity.”

Randolph is about to respond - and then he’s holding onto empty air.  
*  
At the end of the day he feels Nyarlathotep crawl alongside him in bed, an arm across him and eyes locked on the window. It doesn’t matter where he disappeared off to anymore - Randolph’s used to it. And he’s used to him returning by the next day without explanation, or a basic elaboration with the name of a god or Old One. Randolph looks up with him and puts a hand under his chin - “You left too early,” He chides. “It doesn’t distress me. I just wanted to know.”

And he falls asleep with Nyarlathotep’s mouth loosely under his ribs. Strange and absurd at a glance, but that’s been Randolph’s entire life, and that’s how he’d like to keep his life.


	24. tending an injury // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: tending an injury

Randolph just barely pushes the insectoid away before he’s assaulted by a writhing mass of tentacles and shadow, pulled towards the center of the room with no explanation. His blood splashes onto the floor and furniture and he’s pulled to a couch and his robes are ripped off in silence. He bats half-heartedly at the figure as it begins to warp and reform to a roughly human shape, bent and wrapped around him and watching the doors through ephemeral eyes that fade in and out over the edge of the being.

“You stupid, fragile, stupid - what were you thinking?”

“Wanted to know more about the key-”

“It’s going to take years to reset everything caused by the merge, and the shock - there’s a reason I told you not to do this - you stupid human, you-" 

Nyarlathotep breaks into silence and freezes, half-formed to the human avatar, half mist. Randolph is still - the pain from having the alien ripped out of him makes it hard to do much more than breathe. Everything is static. Randolph’s breath disturbs dust particles in the air and the clock he’d been trapped in ticks regularly now, softly. 

The wood breaks. The human form dissolves and Nyarlathotep flings himself towards the clock. Splinters and glass are flung across the room and the occult parephenalia falls to the ground in an unholy storm as a mantis-like creature jabs and scrambles away from a hissing and screaming mass of tesselating dark viscera that seems to be trying to completely dissemble it, shrieking Aklo threats and covering the exits. "Darling,” says Randolph, holding a hand out. It doesn’t seem to reach his partner. He pushes himself up with painful effort, and repeats himself - louder.

A head forms out of the ether and swivels to make eye contact with him. The grey ichor that defines the hybrid form drips onto the floor, hissing and splattering across the wood. The expression is quizzical - then falls into a smile. “I suppose you should be the one to decide what I do to it, right?”

“Put it down.”

“You’re too injured to do anything yourself-”

“Put it down, Nyarlathotep.” Randolph ignores sounds of confused indignance as he struggles to sit himself up, and turns his head towards Zkauba. “We’re going to talk.”


	25. ''who does that'' // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Who crawls into someone's window at 4 am to go for ice cream?"

Randolph Carter wakes up in the middle of the night with a warm body pressed against him and pleasantly hot breath against his neck. He purrs and stretches and turns around to face his partner.

And then remembers that he’s single.

Or, mostly single. He doesn’t even take the time to think the name before he raises the Elder Sign in his left hand and smacks him over the head. “What are you doing here? What do you want-”

“I was thinking we should get ice cream, Randolph Carter. A human date.”

“Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!” 

There’s an offended huff and Nyarlathotep turns around. “You think I had to do something so base as break into your house? Please, I came here on a thought. That I want to go on one of your human dates. They seem…”

“You teleported into my bed without warning.”

“Cute. They seem cute.” Nyarlathotep turns to look back at him, and Randolph has to stop himself from smiling at the bluntness. But he can’t, and he rolls his eyes and pulls Nyarlathotep into a kiss.

“Fine, we can go in the morning.”


	26. accidental marriage // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Don't panic, but I think we might have accidentally gotten married."

“Don’t panic, but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…”

“I know, and I’m not panicking.”

Randolph Carter’s face is near expressionless, apart from the tightly pressed smile. Nyarlathotep can see the lipstick stains and bruises along his jaw and neck, the smudges on his glasses, and the soft signs of damage to his skin. Human frailty can’t fully be masked by the one-in-all surrounding him and emanating from the key, and the little ripples of time around his hands.

Nyarlathotep opens his mouth, then shuts it - instead, flutters his eyelashes and leans into the human. He’s pushed back. “It’s not going to be an issue, I promise I’ll handle it,” he whines, and attempts to move closer again. This time, he’s grabbed by the chin from the fleshy, pulsing hands of the earth creature and held to look into his eyes. Despite himself, he tenses and untenses the legs of the avatar.

“I know you’ll handle it.”


	27. take it off // rantep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You heard me. Take. It. Off."

Clicking manibles and chittering chords behind them and a myriad of reflective, metallic pink eyes greet Randolph Carter as he steps into his chambers in the palace. He shrieks and raises the Silver Key with his head feeling light, before he realizes and drops it.

“I was just in Carcosa. I’m not in the mood for masks.”

The chittering grows louder - like laughter, and the long front limbs reach for him. Randolph steps back. “I’m serious. Please, take it off.”

A choked hissing, wet and raspy, responds - make me.

“I’m not giving you another warning.” Chittery, mocking, laughter. “Nyarlathotep, you heard me. Take it off.”

And black ichor covers the floor and spreads towards Randolph’s feet as the mask dissolves.


	28. Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> originally posted to shameblog666  
> "“Nyarlathotep dressing up in bed with some fancy lingerie or dress, and Carter being surprisingly flustered by it. Thank you and love your fic!”"

At the end of a day of trade meetings and council advisories, all King Carter can think of is curling up with the cats and a bottle of wine. His head feels light and his back hurts from the rigid chairs and the restrictively folded robes. He moves slowly towards the suite, absentmindedly pulling at the intricately woven pieces of leather and wool of the uncomfortable Ilek-Vad early spring wear. 

He exits the administrative centers of the palace into the courtyard gardens. The flowers are fragrant and the last few rays of sunlight filter through stained glass across the leaves and the paths. The doors to his suite are on the far end, near a shining pool of still water. Randolph finds the garden warm and pleasant – he’d linger, but the possibility of being drawn into a conversation with advisers or worse, lingering diplomats. 

Randolph places his hand on the knob of the door and murmurs the short phrase to open the lock. It clicks willingly; he shuts it behind him and flings the detested garment onto a chaise longue in the sitting room. He sees the marks of straps on his upper arms and massages them – who in their right mind would create a robe like this? It had been Luizo’s suggestion that he purchase it from the vendor – Luizo, with his eye for aesthetics and his apparent lack of concern for what Randolph would actually want to wear.

“They did it on purpose. So I wouldn’t try and venture across the Dreamlands again,” mutters Randolph. His bones pop when he stretches.

The formal undergarments are far from pleasant as well. He begins to pull at the trousers and the undershirt – he might as well find something looser, that won’t hurt when he curls up with his cats and his wine. He enters his bedchamber with a groan. 

“Randolph Carter.”

The voice goes to Randolph’s head immediately – already he’s lightheaded from lack of breath and from exhaustion, and the color gray starts to encroach on his vision while his stomach seems to be complaining from miles at sea. With his blurred sight he can make out Nyarlathotep wrapped in some dark fabric and reclined across his bed – now looking at him with some approximation of concern. Randolph tenses his legs, puts a hand against the wall – the room’s spinning slows and his stomach settles. 

“I wanted to make things up to you. A healthy relationship has elements of give and take, and frankly, I feel like all I did was use you for my pleasure. I have so much more to offer than I could ever squeeze from you – I should be generous, shouldn’t I?” 

Randolph doesn’t say anything. He takes off his glasses and wipes them off on the skirts of his robe – when he puts them back on, Nyarlathotep is still lying there. “I wasn’t aware we had a relationship,” says Randolph. Nyarlathotep laughs.

“Then what was the last time?”

“A mistake.”

“Well, let me give something back to you, and we can discuss how to proceed, hmm? I’d just feel terrible if I didn’t get to have you again just because of one lack of consideration...”

The night opens around Randolph – he’s being held up and Nyarlathotep is shoving relentlessly into him, sharp and acrid and burning at the skin where he’s being restrained. He inadvertently screams through a squirming gag and hears mocking laughter around him. It tastes like sugar poured into cheap wine – he bites into it to try and release more of the sweet syrup from the slick, spongy texture. Then the motion of the appendages around and inside him stops and the spines retract back into the body of the tormentor – and something less visceral begins to push into his ear, looking for something.

 _Continue_ , Randolph thinks.

He stands back in the bedchambers. Nyarlathotep has stood up off the bed now, and holds the black chiffon around him. The sheer fabric clings to slender curves and lines – the high waist sloping outwards to the hips, then draping to the floor, concealing slim and even legs. “Let me be sweet for you,” he murmurs into Randolph’s neck; a fold of the fabric is placed into Randolph’s hand. At Nyarlathotep’s smile he pulls at it, slowly, away from the Crawling Chaos.

It falls loosely to the floor without the body inhabiting it – and Randolph looks up from the formless pile on the floor to the form leaning into him, glitter softly reflecting light off the body and the only clothing being a similarly sheer strip just barely covering his cock. Nyarlathotep nips at his neck again and takes Randolph’s hand and moves it to the back of his thigh, humming softly-

Randolph Carter wakes up on the floor.


	29. "rantep miserable at a wedding au oh my god"

Randolph is certain that Rice only invited him to this to make him extra miserable.

He sits in his pew, smiling politely and trying to calculate the minimum amount of time he can spend at the reception. Rice will expect him to stay for dinner, after which what - an hour?

Or perhaps it’s not a function of time. Perhaps it’s a certain amount of sideways glasses, a certain amount of questions about his own marriage plans and his “confirmed bachelorhood”. Richard was the only one that made these events bearable; Armitage wouldn’t want to have Randolph hanging onto him.  
At least there will be wine.

He glances at his watch. The ceremony hasn’t even started yet, even though the invitations said 1 pm. He crosses his legs, then remembers the comments and uncrosses them. He studies his nails. He flips through the hymn book. He stares at the ceiling.

Then somebody (who has arrived late, Randolph thinks as he looks the man over) has the nerve to sit next to him. It’s midday; the man wears a black evening suit with a red tie - deep, dark, red, more of a claret - but nonetheless red. The way his hair is slicked back from his temples draws sharp cheekbones out even further; a thin mustache emphasizes lips curved into an entirely neutral smile. Randolph doesn’t dare to look at the man’s eyes.

“Do I know you?” Randolph asks. His tone stays in one place, no one word is intoned heavier than the others (beyond an inherent mild wavering to his voice). Despite his ire, despite the face being so singular that he would have to be able to place it, a familiarity settles between them.

“You have, and you will.”

The cryptic statement stirs more annoyance in Randolph. “You’re doing this at a wedding, of all places,” he starts, but he doesn’t have the heart to scold this man about propriety. He certainly has made the wedding more entertaining.

“Yes. And I promise you, Randolph Carter, you shall suffer through this entire ceremony, and the reception, and I shall decide if I want your suffering to end by tomorrow, or in a certain period of years.”

And the wedding march plays.


	30. craigslist // richard/randolph friendship

Sometimes, when Randolph Carter is bored, he goes on Craigslist and reads through random posts in a few of the more irreputable categories. He would never respond to any of them – in fact, he prides himself that none of these posts appeal to his sensibilities.

Until, among the forest of erect cocks, he sees:

_Need to piss off your family? Want to wreak havoc on a boring dinner?_

_I’m a 28 year old artist and my main source of income is album covers for local grindcore bands. I’ve been arrested more than once for, among other things, grave-robbing. Willing to share a blunt in the living room before dinner. Pictures attached are me and my work. Will negotiate price through email._

Strictly speaking, there’s no need for Randolph to piss off his family. He can’t name specific grievances – perhaps that is the most grievous thing he could do. But, feeling pushed by some cosmic force, he sends the first email, offering $100 and an invitation to Thanksgiving. Despite the stubble, the greasy looking hair, the vaguely canid look about the man as a whole (for a moment, Randolph wonders if this man would have any connection to the Vale of Pnath), he almost feels he has to.

And he agrees, and a week passes, and now he sits with the man (Richard Pickman; Randolph was expecting something less sober sounding) in the gray leather chair, sipping wine. They had to be close, thought Randolph, to sell the illusion. It isn’t as if he’s ever brought someone to his family before. And the flannel Richard wears is far softer than any of the blankets in the room.

But to Randolph’s consternation, nobody says anything. Richard is given the same few questions about his job, the same polite “ah”s, the same Puritan tight-lipped smiles. He wonders if the request to not be disruptive, simply present and acting as he would act normally (“to upset them by doing as little as possible”, wrote Randolph in an email) was a mistake. During a long, quiet, dinner, Randolph slowly comes to the conclusion that the only disapproval will be levied at him in private, from his parents – the usual treatment, but upped for at least a month.

It takes what feels like years to finish his meal; he murmurs something about wanting to take a nap. Then he texts Richard.

“Everything okay?”

It’s not like Randolph can say “no”. There was no big scene, no yelling, only the slow development of a sense of dread, a ball just below Randolph’s sternum. “You can go home now, if you want. I’m sorry to make you do this if I can’t even handle a confrontation.”

Richard sits next to him on the guest bed, this time keeping a comfortable distance. “I was kind of concerned about that before now.” Randolph tries not to flush and fails. “If it’s any consolation, the food was good.”

“Maybe you should just do something. I probably need to learn to get over that.”

“Nah,” says Richard. He smiles; he puts a hand on Randolph’s shoulder and squeezes. The human contact, the few sentences of genuine conversation, all overwhelm Randolph. “Right now, I think you just need a friend.”


	31. a kiss out of lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by laurencrabtree on tumblr

‘‘Is it safe?’’

‘’No, but when has that stopped you?’’

Randolph Carter couldn’t help but give a small eye roll as he entered the chamber. Nyarlathotep always visited him in Ilek-vad to consummate the ongoing affair - but Randolph had only had his one visit to Kadath. He stood now in plain but elegant robes, in a chamber of that same carved onyx, staring around. Nyarlathotep lounged between forms in front of him. His eyes followed Randolph as he explored the room - smaller than he had expected, but clearly designed for this purpose.

‘‘I had to kick out another Great One and their little human conquest, I-’‘

‘‘Couldn’t let them see you were doing the same thing?’’

Randolph felt something wrap tight around his neck. ‘‘Yes, actually,’‘ spoke Nyarlathotep softly. He was still laying across the chaise, draping himself with the silks across it, but the voice came directly into Randolph’s ear. He held to his throat; while he could hardly breath, he found he could touch his skin. Then came the tugging - and he let Nyarlathotep pull him close.

‘‘I’m not your conquest, you know.’‘

That was met with a loud laugh. His body was slammed against the chaise, and he glanced up with a small smile. ‘‘Come on, Nyarla - brutalize me. Punish me for my disrespect - I came here for a reason, didn’t I?’’

His request was met with a kiss on the lips.


End file.
